All Aboard for Mordor
by PaulpFiction
Summary: Inspired by the thrilling novel All Aboard for Murder, All Aboard for Mordor is a steampunk re-imagining of the events following the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Features a cameo appearance by Sherlock Holmes!


All Aboard for Mordor

Gandalf looked out the balcony toward the East. Clouds of black, with shades of crimson on the bottoms, were hanging above the mountains of Mordor. On the fields below him were the bodies of fallen enemies: goblins, orcs, and trolls burning in piles with their muskets and rapiers glowing on top. Currently, a lone dragonfly was fleeing toward Gondor.

In the room behind him were the remains of the fellowship. Aragorn was cleaning and sharpening his riflesword. Merry and Pippin were contentedly smoking their opiumweed. Gimli was sitting on a low chair, rebraiding his moustache back into his beard. Legolas was examining the molecular structure of the walls with his elf eyes.

"Grave news!" said Éomer as he threw open the double doors. "It appears the fiends of Mordor have built—"

"Quiet!" shouted Gandalf, "I am talking to the King of the Dragonflies. Dragonflies are quite soft-spoken." After several minutes spent with the dragonfly near his ear (Legolas could hear him from across the room, obviously) Gandalf turned from the balcony.

"It appears," continued Éomer, "that during last night's attack, the armies of the enemy built—"

"Yes, yes, the dragonfly already informed me. They built something that would have enabled them to quickly demolish the city. Now, it may serve as a way to attack the city of Gondor again. They have a railroad!"

"A railroad!" ejaculated Gimli, "It must be torn to bits at once!"

"No! It may be our best hope of success. Legolas, look out with your elf eyes. What do you see?"

Legolas stepped toward the window, pulled his goggles over his eyes, and gazed toward the East. "I see… I see a set of tracks extending from the mountains. It is incomplete, however. Another half-mile and it would have reached the Gondor station."

Gandalf paced across the room, deep in thought. The rest of the group watched him, knowing that they would follow whatever plan the wise wizard laid. Finally, he spoke. "We must use this opportunity wisely. Even as we speak the armies of the Enemy are surely amassing strength, creating weapons, and forging armors of brass and bronze. We must divert their attention from the lands of Mordor. The quest that Frodo and Sam undertook is all that matters and we must aid in any way we can. Éomer, do the people of Rohan have a locomotive ready?"

"Yes," Éomer replied, "the Brown Mare is always ready for departure, and it is the fastest steam engine in all Middle Earth."

"Very well. Announce our intentions and gather the city's engineers. The track must be completed with all haste." Gandalf faced the fellowship. "The path before us is long and dark. Do you have the strength and courage to travel it?"

"You have my sword," said Aragorn.

"And my double-bladed chain axe!" replied Gimli.

"And my poison-injecting repeating crossbow," continued Legolas.

"And our arm-mounted rock-launching slingshots!" yelled Merry and Pippin in unison.

"I expected nothing less," said Gandalf. "Prepare the armies of men for departure, Aragorn. We leave at dawn."

The polished brass of the Brown Mare shone brilliantly in the light of the rising sun. An expression of viciousness and determination was upon the horse's head that made up the engine-car. As the engine was starting up, two jets of steam blew from the horse's nose, just as Éomer had enthusiastically described to them. Behind the gallant figure of the horse were a multitude of cars – filled with the troops and their supplies – each with a pair of facsimile horse legs protruding from each side. A tail was visible on the caboose, which was almost of out sight.

"Is it not everything I said and more!" exclaimed Éomer with a leap. "The pride and glory of Rohan, she is! Faster than all others before her, and able to move the weight of a mountain! Truly those are the two greatest strengths of the horse. It took years to design the engine alone, and it still does not do justice to the beauty of the essence of a horse." He continued along these lines for several minutes.

"Enough of your horses!" said Gimli. "If you continue blabbering, it will leave without us! Look, it's about to pull out as we speak."

"But where are Aragorn and the hobbits? I can't see them, even with my elf eyes!" said the worried Legolas.

"Fool of a Took! Fool of a Brandybuck! Fool of a Dunedain!" shouted Gandalf, "For what reason could they possibly not be here?"

"All aboard for Mordor!" wailed the conductor from the platform of the train station.

"One does not simply—"

"Now, now, Twanso," replied my friend, "There is no use in heckling that man. He is obviously neglected by his wife and depressed beyond measure."

"My dear Sclorhek, how in the deuce did you deduce that?"

"By observing his singular moustache. Does that make this singular problem clearer for you?" asked Sclorhek singularly.

I studied the conductor's moustache until I could glean no more information from it. "I still do not see the connection. It seems of the ordinary sort to me. Brown, nicely curled, though perhaps a bit uneven."

"Exactly! Only someone looking for a new romantic partner would put so much effort into his facial hair. I observe, dear friend, that your moustache is not quite as perky as before your marriage. And notice that the left side of his moustache is noticeably smaller than the right. His wife is so disinterested in him that she hadn't even noticed!"

"It is clear as daylight now. But what about the depression?"

"That man has gone to great lengths to grow his moustache rather bushy, particularly toward the middle. Surely that must be for the purpose of concealing his smile, or lack thereof. I say old chap, the powers of observation are severely underestimated in our little society. Now let's off to the cocaine house! I bore of the trifles of everyday –"

"Out of the way, out of the way!" yelled Aragorn as he barged through the crowd. Under his arms were Merry and Pippin. He was sprinting toward the station as fast as he could.

"It's not our fault we're late, Aragorn," said Merry, in between being swung into passersby.

"Aye," agreed Pippin, who is Scottish, "We haven't had a gin and tonic since we left the Shire, and how could we resist popping into the famous Brass Goggles before we leave? Not quite as good as the old Gilded Corset back home, wouldn't you say, Merry lad?"

Most of the train ride was boring. Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli got restless and ran through the halls throwing magazines at each other. _Shouldn't have let them drink all that juice_, thought Gandalf. Several of the other passengers complained, and eventually the steward brought the three of them chocolate milk and chicken nuggets, but only if they promised to be good. Legolas wanted strawberry milk, but they didn't have it. Gandalf was worried the steward would charge him for it, but he didn't. _That was nice of him_ thought Gandalf. _I should leave him a tip_. But not even the wisdom of Gandalf the White knew what to tip a steward.

After passing the Mountains of Mordor by taking the Tunnel of Mordor through them, the Brown Mare reached the Fields of Mordor. A single dark cloud blocked the sun, casting a shadow upon all the land around them. The Gate of Mordor, however, was darker still.

"And finally we come to the home of the enemy" remarked Aragorn to the rest of the fellowship, all of whom were standing on top of the train. "Although there is calm now, we must prepare ourselves for a battle that we may not survive. All that matters now is the destruction of the One Ri-"

The clink of a nearby bullet interrupted him. The group quickly looked up to see that above them was a torrent of enemies! They came on parachutes, gliders, and jetpacks, all armed to the teeth with blunderbusses and muskets and rapiers.

"How could this be!" exclaimed Gimli as he revved up his axe.

Legolas, who was already returning fire along with Aragorn, replied, "The cloud! It's not a cloud at all! It's a zeppelin!" Merry and Pippin began ripping gears off of the armor of the goblins that had been shot down, and were loading their slingshots with them.

"Hobbits!" shouted Aragorn, "Never mind the fight! Find some jetpacks that still work! We're going in!"

Merry and Pippin did as they were told, and soon each had a mostly-functional jetpack. After strapping them on to Legolas and himself, Aragorn picked up Merry and Pippin and instructed Legolas to do the same with Gimli. They took flight toward the hangar of the zeppelin, killing the orcs in their path. If an enemy escaped the reach of Gimli's axe, the hobbits' slingshots shot him down.

In this way, the fellowship reached the hangar, where they alighted and ran toward the engine room. There they found a sea of diminutive creatures, emaciated and ashen-grey in color, hurling themselves into the furnace of a steam engine.

"There's only one way to bring this monstrosity down," said Gimli resolutely as he split his double-bladed chain-axe into two one-handed axes, "cut off the fuel source!"

So there was this big battle inside the zeppelin. Really big. When all the coal-creatures were dead, the zeppelin began to lose altitude. The fellowship flew out and watched as it fell on that one guy who answers the gate of Mordor. You know, that one guy that brought out Frodo's mithril chainmail and said he was dead and all that stuff. That guy.

Oh, and then all that stuff with Frodo and Gollum happened in Mount Doom. Frodo got his finger replaced with a fold-out fork/spoon/knife tool.

The End.


End file.
